Friday, May 23, 2008
Subur-Rude
A few hours ago, I was driving and was slowing down for a redlight when a Suburu Outback pulled up next to me. An older lady was driving. She looked over at me and sneered. What's up with that?
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Life Goes On, and I Didn't Mean To Tear Up Your Painting.
Last night I was sitting up at the bar, doing some thinking. Nobody I really knew was there yet so I was just balancing the checkbook. Eventually, I started thinking about that retard from Life Goes On, the TV series about a family living and dealing with Downs Syndrome, starring Chris Burke as the central figure. The show was on from 1989 til 1993, and I remember being engrossed in it. I don't really know why. I also don't know how I somehow obtained a copy of Chris Burke's autobiography A Special Kind Of Hero but I did. If anyone wants to thumb through it, there's a copy at my parents house in my old bookcase. So anyways, when I got home I ran to the pc to check out Wikipedia, and I was happy to note that Chris Burke is living a normal life in New York. He fronts a folk band, which I have immediately started trying to book at NGT, and looks to be leading a pretty good life. Anyway, I guess I just wanted to share that with you...just in case you wanted to know.
************************************************************
Last night I had a dream, where my whole family was in this mountain town. It was sort of like Las Vegas, so with that in mind maybe northern Nevada. Either way, my dad was driving me and Aimee and my brother and his wife around in a minivan, and eventually we hit this patch of ice and began sliding. It was weird because we weren't really moving very fast and there was no decline in the road, but we were just slowly slipping off the road. Eventually the van hit a sign and we all got out and walked. I saw this house where this huge party was going on, so we all went there to check it out. So my dad and I were walking around being introduced by people we didn't know to other people we didn't know, and we were all just laughing and having this great time. Well, I guess I started getting a little rambunctious, because I started climbing up this wall when nobody was around, and my foot slipped and I tore this painting up. Like, my foot tore the bottom part of the frame off which I was using as my perch to ready for the next step. I don't remember what I was climbing it for, but either way I eventually climbed back down. Then I passed out in a chair.
When I woke up, it was the next morning and the group of people who were at the party (I guess all of my family had left me) were cleaning up. I walked into the kitchen, and they all acted like I was some sort of just vagrant, kind of ignoring me. I was like, whatever, and started walking around to find a way out. As I was leaving I kept picking up pairs of sunglasses sporadically placed throughout the house thinking they were mine. Eventually I found the right pair, and also picked up a few of these strange looking jewels next to them. I was on my way into the next room and a group of them were gathered all looking up at this wall. I thought they were about to bust me for grabbing the jewels so I put them in my pocket. As I neared the group, the father of the family, this middle aged guy (kind of like the dad on Life Goes On) was on a ladder trying to repair the painting I had destroyed the previous night. They all looked at me dissappointed, like I had really let them all down. Then I woke up.
***********************************************************
So I guess last night was pretty eventful. The kid that played Corky is doing alright and I had a nice dream. Bonus. By the way, a really fast sketch of that painting I broke looks like this:
I'm pretty sure it's the bottom part of a tree. It was huge though. And it was like this tri-fold kind of deal.
************************************************************
Last night I had a dream, where my whole family was in this mountain town. It was sort of like Las Vegas, so with that in mind maybe northern Nevada. Either way, my dad was driving me and Aimee and my brother and his wife around in a minivan, and eventually we hit this patch of ice and began sliding. It was weird because we weren't really moving very fast and there was no decline in the road, but we were just slowly slipping off the road. Eventually the van hit a sign and we all got out and walked. I saw this house where this huge party was going on, so we all went there to check it out. So my dad and I were walking around being introduced by people we didn't know to other people we didn't know, and we were all just laughing and having this great time. Well, I guess I started getting a little rambunctious, because I started climbing up this wall when nobody was around, and my foot slipped and I tore this painting up. Like, my foot tore the bottom part of the frame off which I was using as my perch to ready for the next step. I don't remember what I was climbing it for, but either way I eventually climbed back down. Then I passed out in a chair.
When I woke up, it was the next morning and the group of people who were at the party (I guess all of my family had left me) were cleaning up. I walked into the kitchen, and they all acted like I was some sort of just vagrant, kind of ignoring me. I was like, whatever, and started walking around to find a way out. As I was leaving I kept picking up pairs of sunglasses sporadically placed throughout the house thinking they were mine. Eventually I found the right pair, and also picked up a few of these strange looking jewels next to them. I was on my way into the next room and a group of them were gathered all looking up at this wall. I thought they were about to bust me for grabbing the jewels so I put them in my pocket. As I neared the group, the father of the family, this middle aged guy (kind of like the dad on Life Goes On) was on a ladder trying to repair the painting I had destroyed the previous night. They all looked at me dissappointed, like I had really let them all down. Then I woke up.
***********************************************************
So I guess last night was pretty eventful. The kid that played Corky is doing alright and I had a nice dream. Bonus. By the way, a really fast sketch of that painting I broke looks like this:
I'm pretty sure it's the bottom part of a tree. It was huge though. And it was like this tri-fold kind of deal.
Sunday, May 18, 2008
School Days, School Days, dear old golden rule.. um, uh oh...
In early 1997, I moved out of my parent's house and into an apartment with Mac and Brandon. Legally those were the only people on the lease, but Jon also took up residency in the washer/dryer connections room, and Bubba usually took up residency in the hall bathroom nearly every thursday, friday, and saturday night. Coincidentally, we all attended Southeasten Louisiana University that semester and would usually carpool on the rare occasion all 4 of us went to school. One morning, Mac and I were in the living room about to leave when it slowly became more and more apparent the others wouldn't be arising from their liquor induced comas from the night before. And lo, we set out on the 45 minute trek down Interstate 12.
About halfway there, we drove thru a Burger King or something and got some sort of vile and potent fast food breakfast. That combined with the coffee, nicotine, and beer from the night before eventually proved a little more than even the strongest of stomachs could handle. Naturally, we were blowing it up in the car nonstop. I remembered when Bubba would be in the car, he often would say "Oh my God, it smells like a baby just shit in here.." which would ilicit laughter all around. Either way, this time it was just me and Mac. And good thing too - because I was about to need a co-pilot.
Over and again, we were just ripping it up, left and right. Riding down the interstate doing about 70 miles per hour, I eventually took it a little too far. Tragedy befell me. A wave of dread and dispair washed over me as I immediatley leaned forward, trying to get away from the minor catastrophe I'd just created. "Oh fuck" I said to Mac. "What?" "Um, I think I just crapped in my pants a little". Although I didn't just think it. I KNEW it. That's one of those things you just know.
Of course he started laughing hysterically at my misfortune as I kind of pulled myself off the seat, trying not to sit down. I didn't know what to do. We were almost to school. I wasn't going to turn around and drive another 40 minutes back to Baton Rouge sitting in my own tiny amount of poowater. This was a serious problem that needed to be corrected as soon as humanly possible. I looked over at him and said "We're gonna need to swap seats." I didn't want to pull over and have a cop show up asking questions. "Sorry, Officer. I just crapped in my pants." I was desperate. This isn't a situation you want to be in for very long. I needed to rid myself of this problem. I needed to get out of the makeshift non-diaper I'd just turned my pants into. This situation had to be taken care of. Time for the acrobatic tactics. We were gonna have to do this on the fly.
I set the cruise control of my 1992 Dodge Ramcharger, currently doing about 73 mph. I looked at Mac and said "Take the wheel". He protested such an idiotic manuever for a little while, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Eventually he consented and grabbed the right side of the sterring wheel while I dragged myself over to the center console and into the backseat. He climbed over the console and into the driver's seat. My truck at the time had a large storage area behind the back bench seat, so I climed over the little couch and landed in the very back of the truck between the back seat and the hatchback door like I was a wounded soldier crawling back to a foxhole. Luckilly I remembered I'd left an old white t-shirt in the back. As Mac laughed from the front of the car, I pulled my jeans down and leaning forward onto my knees, wiped myself off. The windows were tinted somewhat, but I'm sure somebody behind the truck could see violent thrashing about.
I took my underwear off, balled up the shirt with the clean part outside, and just wrapped duct tape all around the soiled linens. After I was about as clean as I thought I'd possibly be, I put the rest of my clothes back on and climbed back into the front of the truck. By this point we were almost to the freshmen parking lot at SLU, so I figured I'd let Mac just take us the rest of the way in. I was too traumatized anyway.
On the way to my first class, we strolled through the Union breezeway and I discreetly tossed the poo-shirt duct tape ball in the first trashcan I saw. I freeballed it the rest of the schoolday. Mac seemed eager to tell everyone of the adventure we just went through, but I begged him not to. Of course, we were at a party that weekend and I was just blabbering it to everyone, but at the time it seemed like quite a sensitive subject. So the moral of the story is: Don't poo in your pants while driving unless you have a passenger willing to risk their own life and a big enough vehicle to throw yourself all over. And leave a t-shirt in the back somewhere. You never know when you might need it.
About halfway there, we drove thru a Burger King or something and got some sort of vile and potent fast food breakfast. That combined with the coffee, nicotine, and beer from the night before eventually proved a little more than even the strongest of stomachs could handle. Naturally, we were blowing it up in the car nonstop. I remembered when Bubba would be in the car, he often would say "Oh my God, it smells like a baby just shit in here.." which would ilicit laughter all around. Either way, this time it was just me and Mac. And good thing too - because I was about to need a co-pilot.
Over and again, we were just ripping it up, left and right. Riding down the interstate doing about 70 miles per hour, I eventually took it a little too far. Tragedy befell me. A wave of dread and dispair washed over me as I immediatley leaned forward, trying to get away from the minor catastrophe I'd just created. "Oh fuck" I said to Mac. "What?" "Um, I think I just crapped in my pants a little". Although I didn't just think it. I KNEW it. That's one of those things you just know.
Of course he started laughing hysterically at my misfortune as I kind of pulled myself off the seat, trying not to sit down. I didn't know what to do. We were almost to school. I wasn't going to turn around and drive another 40 minutes back to Baton Rouge sitting in my own tiny amount of poowater. This was a serious problem that needed to be corrected as soon as humanly possible. I looked over at him and said "We're gonna need to swap seats." I didn't want to pull over and have a cop show up asking questions. "Sorry, Officer. I just crapped in my pants." I was desperate. This isn't a situation you want to be in for very long. I needed to rid myself of this problem. I needed to get out of the makeshift non-diaper I'd just turned my pants into. This situation had to be taken care of. Time for the acrobatic tactics. We were gonna have to do this on the fly.
I set the cruise control of my 1992 Dodge Ramcharger, currently doing about 73 mph. I looked at Mac and said "Take the wheel". He protested such an idiotic manuever for a little while, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Eventually he consented and grabbed the right side of the sterring wheel while I dragged myself over to the center console and into the backseat. He climbed over the console and into the driver's seat. My truck at the time had a large storage area behind the back bench seat, so I climed over the little couch and landed in the very back of the truck between the back seat and the hatchback door like I was a wounded soldier crawling back to a foxhole. Luckilly I remembered I'd left an old white t-shirt in the back. As Mac laughed from the front of the car, I pulled my jeans down and leaning forward onto my knees, wiped myself off. The windows were tinted somewhat, but I'm sure somebody behind the truck could see violent thrashing about.
I took my underwear off, balled up the shirt with the clean part outside, and just wrapped duct tape all around the soiled linens. After I was about as clean as I thought I'd possibly be, I put the rest of my clothes back on and climbed back into the front of the truck. By this point we were almost to the freshmen parking lot at SLU, so I figured I'd let Mac just take us the rest of the way in. I was too traumatized anyway.
On the way to my first class, we strolled through the Union breezeway and I discreetly tossed the poo-shirt duct tape ball in the first trashcan I saw. I freeballed it the rest of the schoolday. Mac seemed eager to tell everyone of the adventure we just went through, but I begged him not to. Of course, we were at a party that weekend and I was just blabbering it to everyone, but at the time it seemed like quite a sensitive subject. So the moral of the story is: Don't poo in your pants while driving unless you have a passenger willing to risk their own life and a big enough vehicle to throw yourself all over. And leave a t-shirt in the back somewhere. You never know when you might need it.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
1998
About 10 years ago, I decided I was going to write a book all about myself and my theories on life. I recently found it and I have to say I was impressed with how long I stuck with it. It's 60 pages of size 12 font Times New Roman drivel, along with illustrations, comic strips, poems. I'm getting quite a kick out of it because for the most part, it's the most vile and stupidest shit I have ever seen in any type of print. But there were some interesting tidbits. It was called "Sam Terito's 1998", and I personally find it fascinating because of the way I thought back then. Fitting - its on I suppose its 10 year old birthday. Sadly I remember giving this missive to people to read who were in my apartment or somewhere nearby. They thought it was mildly entertaining, but looking back it was probably a guidebook for how angry and misguided of a person I was.
Some tidbits worth re-typing:
********************************
(from Chapter 10)
Sam is a very hairy man. When he gets his hair cut, the haircutters always laugh at the overgrowth of hair on the back of Sam's neck. Sam is VERY ANGRY about this behavior.
(from Chapter 12)
-When I was only 4 years old, I was small and hairless.
-Everyone who was mean to me in middle school will burn in hell.
-The waitress at a nearby breakfast place bit my head.
(from Chapter 13)
-The other day I was walking around school and I started to think. Wouldn't it be cool if simple things could make me happy? So I went into this building, walked to a coke machine, and purchased a soft drink. Then I walked around campus, lightly sipping it. I started looking at leaves and trees. I stopped. Looked at all that was around me... and smiled. I was so fucking happy because I had a cold soft drink and I didn't have to do anything.
(from Chapter 18)
A COMMERCIAL FOR EGGS
A man walks into a room where his family is consuming breakfast. He looks at a horse in the corner and vomits on it. The end.
A COMMERCIAL FOR SHAMPOO
Two people are walking down the street. An armed criminal walks into the street in front of them and mutters something in Japanese. Then a safe falls on an old woman off in the distance. The end.
A COMMERCIAL FOR COLA
An old man is vomiting on a trashcan in an unfurnished apartment. The end.
(from Chapter 19)
(May 15 1999 12:19pm)
These are good days. There will be other good days, but these are the best. At this point I have lived for 21 years, 1 month, 13 days, 23 hours, and 17 minutes. I have seen a lot but I will see more. Better days? Of course. Maybe. Perhaps. I hope so. Probably not. Who knows? That is the question. That is the quest. Maximize pleasure and minimize pain. That is the formula for better days.
(from Chapter 22)
you know the term "who gives a rat's ass"? well it doesn't really make any sense. how could you give a rat's ass? is there an understood 'to you' on the end of it? because i could understand giving a rat's ass to someone, but without that clarification there... i just don't know what to make of it. in ancient times, maybe a rat's ass was some type of gift, some type of commodity... hmmm.
**********************************
There's more, but I don't really feel like typing it out. Maybe every now and again, I'll throw out some of "Sam Terito's 1998" to you if you're bored and you want to see the ramblings of a 20-21 year old idiot.
Now I guess it's time to start "Sam Terito's 2008". Or have I already being doing that?
Some tidbits worth re-typing:
********************************
(from Chapter 10)
Sam is a very hairy man. When he gets his hair cut, the haircutters always laugh at the overgrowth of hair on the back of Sam's neck. Sam is VERY ANGRY about this behavior.
(from Chapter 12)
-When I was only 4 years old, I was small and hairless.
-Everyone who was mean to me in middle school will burn in hell.
-The waitress at a nearby breakfast place bit my head.
(from Chapter 13)
-The other day I was walking around school and I started to think. Wouldn't it be cool if simple things could make me happy? So I went into this building, walked to a coke machine, and purchased a soft drink. Then I walked around campus, lightly sipping it. I started looking at leaves and trees. I stopped. Looked at all that was around me... and smiled. I was so fucking happy because I had a cold soft drink and I didn't have to do anything.
(from Chapter 18)
A COMMERCIAL FOR EGGS
A man walks into a room where his family is consuming breakfast. He looks at a horse in the corner and vomits on it. The end.
A COMMERCIAL FOR SHAMPOO
Two people are walking down the street. An armed criminal walks into the street in front of them and mutters something in Japanese. Then a safe falls on an old woman off in the distance. The end.
A COMMERCIAL FOR COLA
An old man is vomiting on a trashcan in an unfurnished apartment. The end.
(from Chapter 19)
(May 15 1999 12:19pm)
These are good days. There will be other good days, but these are the best. At this point I have lived for 21 years, 1 month, 13 days, 23 hours, and 17 minutes. I have seen a lot but I will see more. Better days? Of course. Maybe. Perhaps. I hope so. Probably not. Who knows? That is the question. That is the quest. Maximize pleasure and minimize pain. That is the formula for better days.
(from Chapter 22)
you know the term "who gives a rat's ass"? well it doesn't really make any sense. how could you give a rat's ass? is there an understood 'to you' on the end of it? because i could understand giving a rat's ass to someone, but without that clarification there... i just don't know what to make of it. in ancient times, maybe a rat's ass was some type of gift, some type of commodity... hmmm.
**********************************
There's more, but I don't really feel like typing it out. Maybe every now and again, I'll throw out some of "Sam Terito's 1998" to you if you're bored and you want to see the ramblings of a 20-21 year old idiot.
Now I guess it's time to start "Sam Terito's 2008". Or have I already being doing that?
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